Harry Potter and the Polyjuice Misunderstanding
by Josephine Stone
Summary: When Harry is stalking, er, investigating Malfoy, he is misidentified as Pansy under polyjuice and has to make out with Malfoy to gather information about his involvement with Voldemort.
1. Stalking Malfoy

Beta: Spring Witch

A/N: I had this completed a long time ago, but I took it down to rewrite it and send it to a beta then lost it. So I rewrote it from memory. (I lost everything on my computer when I lost this. All my notes for all of my stories.) It won't be word for word or even scene for scene the same. I hope it will be better than the original as I have worked a lot on writing since then. This is supposed to be in British English, so please point out things that are American.

* * *

Harry watched Malfoy.

In the morning while he ate breakfast, during all their classes, on the map when unable to see him, and in the hallways when he was near. His friends knew this, because they saw it. What they worried about and could never be sure about was how far he would take it. Getting with Ginny made them back off, but Hermione gave him that questioning look again during dinner weeks ago. He needed to be less obvious. So when his friends were around he pretended Malfoy didn't exist.

If Malfoy ever spoke of what he did in the Room of Requirement to anyone, then Harry would have stopped weeks ago as his friends said he should. But hours of sitting on the hard, cold, stone floor in the Slytherin common room gained him nothing, except numb limbs and a strong dislike for philosophy and literature. He longed for gossip, but learned for the Slytherins gossip was only interesting, if the person they were gossiping about could hear what they were saying.

How could Malfoy hold a secret inside every second of every day? Malfoy who never shut up. Who always boasted about everything to everyone. Who, until recently, Harry would have sworn couldn't keep a secret if he life depended on it.

Apparently, when his life depended on it he could.

It was late. He had to return to Gryffindor tower, or he'd spend another night under his cloak hoping no one tripped over him before he woke up in the morning. Thankfully, Malfoy announced he was tired and headed towards his room. Bedrooms, bathrooms, and the toilets were off limits for obvious reasons, so Harry stood, stretched out his legs, and crept out of the dungeons. There had to be a way to get information out of Malfoy.

* * *

'I don't understand', Ginny said during breakfast the next morning, 'how they can't see that what they're doing is wrong?'

Hermione looked over her shoulder to the Slytherin table. 'They're eating breakfast?'

'I'm mean their side of the war.' Ginny's glare shifted from them to her and then down at her plate, as she stabbed at her food. 'Nothing good will come of it if they win.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'I'm sure they think the same thing about our side.'

Harry kept quiet as his friends continued to bicker. It seemed as though Hermione purposely took the opposite side to Ginny in every conversation. He and Ron tried to stay out of whatever they were arguing about, but sooner or later—

'You agree with me don't you, Harry?' Ginny asked for his support. He agreed with Hermione. If they believed their side winning would destroy the wizarding world, then they'd switch sides. Sure there was fear involved, but that didn't motivate every person who sided with Voldemort. And the ones that were motivated by fear did know what they were doing was wrong. So really, either way, Ginny was wrong in her assessment.

He smiled at her and she took that as a _yes_. Hermione didn't look at him.

'If they win, everyone will be enslaved ruled over by pure-bloods like _the Malfoys_ or dead', Ginny said. 'All the dark creatures will be able to feed on anyone they chose.' That part was true. It was one of the major reasons they were fighting the war. It's just that—

'If they weren't being mistreated right now, they'd be less willing to support him.' Hermione was right and Harry understood her. Ginny and Ron and, well, most of their friends treated Hermione like an excited house-elf when it came to her campaigns. They supported her because they were her friends. Not because they believed it her causes.

'Vampires, Dementors, Sphinx?', Ginny said. 'They're being taken care of. They're dangerous.'

She didn't mention werewolves or giants, which were also siding with Voldemort hoping to be allowed better standing in the wizarding world.

Hermione slammed her book and excused herself to the library. Ron was quick to follow, leaving Harry with his angry girlfriend. The upside to this was with them gone and Ginny ranting, he could stare at the Slytherin table uninterrupted. She fumed about the war and how evil they all were, but she agreed with Ron and grudgingly with Hermione that he was obsessed with _his Malfoy theory_ and he _paid far too much attention to him._

How could they not see the two were connected? Ron and Hermione were with him when he watched Malfoy in Borgin and Burkes. He's told them about Malfoy's name disappearing off the map on the seventh floor. Malfoy was plotting or making something dangerous in there. Harry knew it. There wasn't proof yet. So he had to watch him to make sure he didn't miss a clue.

Ginny elbowed him when she realized he tuned her out and then left to catch up with Luna and _Neville_. She said it as though Neville was her secret lover and he should stop her from being near him, but Harry knew Neville would never do that to anybody. He left the Great Hall and pulled his cloak out of his bag then hid beneath it by the entrance waiting for his suspect to exit.

It was a good thing Harry lived under his invisibility cloak when he wasn't with his friends, or he would have missed this vital information. Malfoy was planning something with Parkinson. They were whispering about it as they left breakfast. Harry followed a breath behind them.

Malfoy never involved her in his plans for Voldemort before. It was Harry's chance to get the information he needed. Crabbe and Goyle were thick. Of course, Malfoy never told them anything. A simple potion in a cake and they'd blab everything without even thinking to inform Malfoy of it later. Parkinson was smart. She'd be helpful in whatever Malfoy's mission was.

The hall was loud and Harry only caught the tail of the conversation after they turn off to go up a staircase.

'West end of the dungeons', Malfoy said to Parkinson. 'Right after dinner.'

She took the small bag he held out for her with a look of disgust. 'Draco… are you positive—'

'I can't be until we try it.' Malfoy took a deep breath. 'Be there. I'm trusting you.'

But it was enough.

* * *

All Saturday he sat in the dungeons going through more of his father's indiscretions. If Snape hoped Harry would hate his father, the punishment failed. He knew his father wasn't who he thought he was growing up. No one is perfect. Snape freed him for dinner and then he went to meet Malfoy after.

It would be odd for him to bring his bag to dinner, so he was without his cloak but brought the map instead. Harry watched Malfoy on the map as he paced behind the door in front of him. He'd been outside it for the last twenty minutes hidden in the shadows waiting for something to happen. Parkinson never showed. Hoping that Malfoy would be cursing her aloud he stepped toward the door to hear anything about their plan, when the door opened and he came face to face with him.

Before Harry said a word, Malfoy grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the room with a short, 'Pansy, you're late.' Once Harry was inside, Malfoy released him, shut and then locked the door behind them. 'I thought you might not come.'

It must have been polyjuice in the bag he gave her. No wonder she backed out. It surprised him Malfoy was able to talk Crabbe and Goyle into becoming twelve year old girls, but Harry was right; Parkinson was smart. It wasn't worth the humiliation to be on Malfoy's good side. Perfect. She was supposed to be him. He could be himself and question Malfoy. It was better than he planned.

As Malfoy stepped closer examining Harry's stance, his furrowed brows smoothed as his jaw went slack and eyes widen in panic.

Harry said, 'I almost didn't,' before Malfoy had a chance to question it. 'I changed my mind at the last minute.' Harry shrugged. 'That's why I'm late.'

After Malfoy's panic subsided he glared, but then nodded. He accepted the lie and walked farther into the room. To their left sat a four-post bed, and at the back of the room was a fire place. A brown velvet couch sat in front of it and candles lit the mantle. The room smelled of Christmas: cinnamon, apples, pine, and peppermint.

Harry shifted his weight between his feet. What did they need a bed for? He expected a cold meeting room with a large table and map. Or maybe a vacant room where they practiced the Dark Arts. Either way, the warmth was out of place.

'You didn't look in any mirrors on your way here, did you?'

'No', Harry said. 'Why would I?'

'You've always been too curious for your own good.'

Curious? This was bad. There was no being himself and pretending she was an amazing actress. He had to be her in his body and pretend to be clueless as to who he was. He suppressed an eye roll and then decided it was something she'd do and tried to make it look natural. Her natural stance was defensive whenever she saw Harry. But when he was out of sight she draped herself over Malfoy.

Maybe the bed was for after she transformed back. His stomach dropped at the thought. How would he get out of there?

Malfoy circled him as though he was looking for a piece of lint hidden in the creases of his robes, which added to Harry's unease about the situation. Harry was a terrible liar. He held tight to his wand and his breath. What was he looking for? A flaw in the potion? It wouldn't affect his clothes. Malfoy stopped once he stood in front of Harry again.

'How long ago did you take the potion?' Malfoy's eyes widened as he thought through all the possibilities. 'You didn't take in the dorm, did you?'

'What? No!' Did he think that little of her intelligence? Everyone would have noticed if Harry Potter strutted out of the Slytherin common room. They might have captured her and taken her to Voldemort or tortured her. It would at least tip someone off that they were up to something.

'Just now then? Out in the hall?'

If he could have smacked himself without giving himself a way, he would have. Parkinson would have waited until she met up with Malfoy, before she transformed. Glad that Malfoy gave him a story and he had no need to think of one himself, he rolled his eyes and said, 'Of course.'

Malfoy exhaled, gestured toward the couch and said, 'Why don't we sit down?' He followed close behind Harry and sat next him. They were close enough their thighs brushed against each other.

'Alright?' Malfoy looked down at his hands rubbed his thumb across his finger nails. They seemed shiner afterwards as though he was polishing them.

'Alright.' Harry chewed his bottom lip and thought about how he could get him to spill his plan. In the past, Malfoy always gave everything away on his own, so Harry decided to play along and wait. He would brag about something and then Harry could lean the conversation where he wanted it.

'Before anything happens,' Malfoy said. 'I wanted to thank you for doing this for me. I know how weird this has to be for you.'

That was understatement. Harry couldn't imagine how strange it would be for him to be in a girl's body. The idea of being in a boy's body was strange enough Parkinson backed out.

'Just relax; you don't have to do anything. Just sit there.'

Malfoy cupped Harry's face in his left hand then dragged his thumb across his cheek, as he inched closer to him. No one had ever touched his face like that before. Even when snogging Ginny— Every muscle in Harry's face clenched and then Malfoy's thumb brushed across his lips. From the left to the right then on the bottom lip, where Harry had chewed it earlier, and back again. He repeated the motion, until Harry unclenched his jaw. Malfoy was going to kiss him.

He pulled his arms up and across his chest in effort to have something in between them. Then Malfoy leaned in and replaced his thumb with his lips. Harry made an involuntary squeak in the back of his throat. There was no time to decide on what to do. A shock ran through him when Malfoy licked his bottom lip; and when Harry's mouth opened, he introduced their tongues against Harry's will. He meant it when he said that all Harry had to do was sit there, because he was unfazed by his lack of involvement.

Harry pulled away to swallow and prepare himself. He knew Parkinson would never sit unmoving whilst Malfoy kissed her. He had to kiss back, so he forced himself to move his mouth in coordination with Malfoy's when he continued. Once they had a steady rhythm, he relaxed. It was fine. With his eyes closed it could be anybody. And Malfoy was good with his tongue. What was in this for him?

Parkinson pretending to be Harry and gain information from Dumbledore for Voldemort made sense. Meeting Malfoy to plan such an invent made sense. This didn't. Malfoy couldn't want this.

Harry relaxed and untangled his arms, then he pushed Malfoy back to get into a more comfortable position. Malfoy accepted the position change, but broke the kiss for air before he laid flat beneath Harry. That wasn't the plan. He needed feeling in his arms and air to think. Yet, there was something about Malfoy laying helpless beneath him that he liked. Not that he ever felt threatened by him, or that he ever saw Malfoy as anything but weak. But that he was willing. He was giving up control to Harry. Trusting him. Well, trusting Parkinson. Which Harry considered a more risky venture than trusting himself.

More important was the look on Malfoy's face that said he wanted this.

Malfoy pulled on Harry's shirt urging him forward and Harry lowered himself enough to settle his hips and returned to kissing. They were quickly caught up, until Harry had to pull back for air. He was light-headed after he finished his first intake of air, and before he had the chance to take a second breath Malfoy attacked his mouth again. He pulled Harry tighter to him. When he caught another breath, it made him dizzier instead of steadier. He forgot how to breathe. Malfoy bit his way to and down Harry's neck. Harry retaliated by pressing his erection against Malfoy's.

Which brought it to his attention and he froze. He allowed himself to feel weird about it. Parkinson would.

'It's okay', Malfoy said and brushed the tip of his nose against Harry's. 'It's normal.'

Of course it wasn't normal. Harry bit him harder, which caused Malfoy to groan and press harder against him. Then he brought their mouths back together. They both moved against each other with as much force as possible. To stop himself from coming Harry pulled back and tried to break the kiss, but Malfoy followed him unwilling to let him go.

A second later Malfoy broke the kiss allowing Harry to breath and pressed his forehead against Harry's shoulder. But also shifted his hips back up to meet Harry's and came. Unable stop himself after that, Harry joined him. His body relaxed and he let himself rest on top of Malfoy. Steady breathing giving his brain the oxygen it needed, but his thoughts were still incoherent. It wasn't normal. Girls didn't become boys to mess around with the bloke they'd fancied for years. And pure-blooded wizards didn't want to snog half-blood orphans they made fun of every day.

Especially, not ten days after that particular half-blood orphan used _Sectumsempra_ on the pure-blood wizard which almost killed him.

After a beat Malfoy said, 'Well.'

'Yeah', Harry said.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah.' He would be fine. After a few more deep breaths, he might be able to move again. Then remember that Parkinson would not be as used to laying spunk as he was. 'Eww.'

Malfoy snorted found his wand and with a flick of his wrist Harry was clean again.

'Thanks.' He needed to learn that spell.

'So?' Malfoy let his arms fall loose around Harry.

'So?'

'That pretty much confirms it for me', Malfoy said. 'I'm bent.'

Harry pushed himself up. 'Right.' That was what they were doing. Parkinson turned into a boy to try it out with him. That made sense. Except for the part that Malfoy chose Harry out of every one else he could have chosen.

'I'm sorry.' Malfoy pulled himself up and curled his right leg underneath his left so he could face Harry.

'It's okay.' Parkinson was his friend; therefore she would understand the situation. Or maybe not. She had stood him up. Maybe she'd cry.

Malfoy starred at the space in front of him.

Harry elbowed him lightly. 'I knew that was a possibility before I came here, right?'

He jolted when Harry spoke, and then looked up at him as though he was surprised by his presence. 'Right.' Malfoy nodded and sat up straighter. 'Would you mind continuing this?'

'Yes', Harry said, before he thought it through and then blushed. He had to continue it, because he knew less about what Malfoy was up to than before the encounter started. He needed to get Malfoy to talk. Though it wasn't the ideal way, it would still work. How much snogging could they do before getting bored? They'd talk. Eventually.

Malfoy smirked and relaxed against the couch. 'Tomorrow? Same time and place?'

Harry nodded and wondered how long they'd been there. _The potion_ lasted an hour and Malfoy would notice if he stayed himself longer than he should.

'I should get going', Harry said as he stood. He was out the door before Malfoy had a chance to protest.


	2. Why Him?

Harry spent the night on the floor in Malfoy's dorm room. The bedroom rule might not apply to Parkinson as it never applied to Hermione for his room, and Harry wasn't taking any chances. His neck was stiff from sleeping sitting up leaning against Malfoy's trunk. It was the most uncomfortable way to sleep, but one word from her and Harry's cover was blown.

Parkinson stayed out of the boy's room that morning, but was waiting for Malfoy in their common room to escort him to breakfast. When they reached the first floor, she pulled on his arm and forced him to walk slower. They let the others pass and Harry pointed his wand at her. He had all night to think of which spell he'd use and he still hadn't decided on the proper one. Planning was never his strong suit. An idea would come to him when he needed it. They always did.

'About last night–' He could make her trip, but it would only delay the conversation.

Draco yanked his arm away from her. 'Shut your mouth.' He looked around the hall to ensure they were alone, before he continued. 'We agreed to never discuss it outside of the room.'

They must have agreed on that before their intended meeting. Harry would have exhaled in relief, if he wasn't close enough for them to hear it.

She glared at Malfoy, but nodded. 'Nothing happened', she said in obvious confusion.

That was it, the next thing she'd say was I'm sorry, I didn't show or I stood you up?

'Right', Malfoy said. 'Nothing happened.'

Huffing she crossed her arms, and continued down the hall ranting about how all Slytherin men were worthless and self involved and what happened to treating women like princesses? Malfoy rolled his eyes at her whining about looking in other houses and then followed her down the last set of stairs as she continued on about how her parents could live with her betrothed to a Ravenclaw.

* * *

After the third time Harry walked past where he was sure the room was the night before, he leant against the wall in defeat. Did the school have two Rooms of Requirement? He brought his head back against—the wood? The door appeared where a solid stone wall stood before.

He slipped into the room pleased to see he beat Malfoy there, then flicked his wand to light the candles. Within five minutes Malfoy showed up and startled at Harry's presence. After he recovered from his surprise, he strutted over to the couch in the same manner that he moved everywhere else.

'What was it you wanted to talk to me about earlier today?'

Harry should have thought about this. 'I wanted to apologize for… running out so quickly last night.'

Malfoy nodded, relaxed then sat next to him. 'Why did you?'

'I don't know.' Harry shrugged. 'Nothing like that has ever happened to me.' True and plausible for both situations. He hoped it was true for Parkinson.

'You still want to––' Malfoy gestured back and forth between them. 'I mean… you don't have to do this. I could find someone else—'

'No!' Harry disliked the idea of Malfoy finding someone else to use his body for his own sexual pleasure, especially since he never used it for that. He had plenty of opportunity, but––

Malfoy shifted closer to Harry, took his left hand, traced the tips of Harry's fingers, then brought them to his mouth.

But he was busy with the war and school and Quidditch and his friends. He never could trust the girls who fancied him. With their poems, and their cards, and Valentine's Day chocolates filled with potions.

And none of that mattered because he needed to find out what Malfoy was planning. Harry jerked his hand away from Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy was behind what happened to both Ron and Katie, he had the Dark Mark—even though Harry hadn't seen it—and it all tied back to what he was doing in the Room of Requirement.

Malfoy looked amused for some reason. 'Does this body feel much different?'

Harry wasn't sure how it felt to be in a girl's body, but he was sure it would feel quite different. He shrugged. 'I'm a girl.'

Malfoy barked out laughter, shook his head and kissed him. 'I know that. I meant from the one you were in yesterday.'

It took Harry a second to get what Malfoy meant. Yesterday he was himself as he was then.

'I got enough of each person for one transformation', Malfoy said.

Harry's pulse speed up and waited for Malfoy to hex him. He knew. It was only supposed to be him the first night. Then she was supposed to show up as someone else. That was why he looked surprised earlier when Harry entered. He willed himself to run. Or explain. Or something.

Malfoy leaned in and kissed him, then Harry pushed him back to search his face.

Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows. 'What?'

'I'm a different person each time?'

'I thought I told you that.' Malfoy shrugged and kissed him again.

Harry accepted it, but broke it second later. 'Why are they all black?'

Malfoy stared wide-eyed at Harry.

'I mean the hair not––'

'So you couldn't tell them apart.' It sounded reasonable, but Harry knew it was a lie. Malfoy had mentioned that Pansy was "too curious for her own good", so he pressed further.

'Are any of them….' He drew a blank on anyone else that even had black hair. 'Potter?' he asked in what he hoped was a neutral tone.  
Malfoy paled.

'He has black hair.'

Malfoy took a deep breath.'I hadn't noticed', he said. 'No, they aren't.'

The reaction confirmed that Harry's identity remained secret and Malfoy tried to fool Pansy into thinking it was multiple people to––well, he was unsure why Malfoy wanted her to think she was transforming into different people. Maybe so she'd be less tempted to look.

Harry kissed him and his mind wandered knowing that he couldn't be the only person he knew with black hair. Many pureblooded wizards had black hair, but he never bothered to learn their names. Many different nationalities had black hair, but he doubted his compared to theirs. Plus the skin colour would be off. Malfoy lucked out when she ditched him, because anyone could have figured out his secret after a few days.

Snape was the only male professor with black hair at any length, but it was much longer than Harry's. Though they had the more similar skin colour than any of the others with black hair at their school. The thought made him laugh.

'What about Snape?'

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 'Maybe.' Then he leaned against Harry. 'Maybe you are him right now.'

Harry's eyes widen and Malfoy crawled into his lap. No way was Malfoy playing along with that. He was the youngest teacher at Hogwarts, but still the same age as their parents. Plus, it was Snape. Who hated and enjoyed tormenting everyone. Well, perhaps not Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins.

Malfoy studied him again with a pensive look on his face, so Harry asked, 'What are you thinking?'

He shook his head and looked away. 'Nothing.'

'No', Harry said. 'You're thinking something. Tell me.' What could be a bigger secret for him than fancying blokes? 'You can trust me, Draco.' It sounded weird to say it. Parkinson never called him by his last name.

Malfoy opened his mouth as though to answer, but nothing came out.

'You know, it's not that weird to have a crush on a professor. I'm not going to tell anyone.' Harry caught his eye and said, 'I promise.'

Malfoy nodded, moved off of Harry's lap, and and rested his head to stare at the ceiling. 'I was thinking about everything I want to say to him.' That could be bad, but Harry was also too curious for his own good. Anything that got Malfoy around to talking might help Harry find a way to bring up the Room of Requirement.

'Well.' Harry smiled. 'He is right here. You can tell him.'

Malfoy laughed. 'Yeah, I suppose he is.' He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then looked up at Harry again, and threaded his fingers through his hair.

'You are so beautiful.'

Harry stopped breathing. Not what he expected. Though attraction was required for a crush. Why him? Anyone made more sense than Harry.

'I love your eyes.' Malfoy's thumb ran across his cheek. 'Even when you are glaring at me.' He smirked. 'Especially, when you're glaring at me.' He looked back at the ceiling and laughed again. 'Because, then you notice me.'

Harry took a breath and Malfoy fell quiet. If Malfoy allowed himself to be honest, it would give away Harry's identity of that he was certain. The only thing he and Snape had in common was they saw Malfoy everyday. If he spoke of any particular encounter then Parkinson would know who she was polyjucing into.  
'You must think I'm crazy', Malfoy said.

He was unsure if that was directed at him, Harry, or at Parkinson listening to Malfoy talk about Snape. Either way, Harry agreed, it was a little crazy. Malfoy looked back at him, and they watched each other in silence for a moment before Malfoy leaned forward and kissed him. When he pulled away his eyes were closed and he pressed their foreheads together.

Harry watched him.

Malfoy took an unsteady breath and said, 'I think… I'm in love with you.'

* * *

It was before eight o'clock, when he headed off to "bed". Ginny said she had studying to do for Monday. She always waited until the last minute, but if she waited until the next day, Sunday, she might not finish. Hermione forced Ron to study even though he'd finished he assignments for Monday. He groaned and hid a Quidditch magazine in the book he was reading when Harry distracted her saying goodnight.

Though he was glad his escape was easy, it occurred to him how little time they spent together since his Malfoy theory took so much of his time. They thought he gave up on the idea.

In their room, he walked by Neville unnoticed, sat on his bed, and debated what to do. Ginny seemed completely unbothered by his lack of involvement in their relationship, and after two days he had official snogged Malfoy more than her. They hadn't even been together for two weeks and he cheated on her. Cheated. She was better off with Dean. When he was with Malfoy she never even crossed his mind. What would he say? Not that he cheated on her.

Tomorrow. He'd break up with her tomorrow, before he meet with Malfoy on Monday evening.

That settled he had only one question left to ponder until long after his dorm mates made their way to bed and slept.

Why him?


	3. Of Breakups and Blow Jobs

Harry promised himself he'd do it. The longer he waited the worse it would be. He just had to start the conversation. Ginny was kissing him, but he wasn't participating too concerned with what he would tell her.

She pulled back and glared at him. 'Harry, what's going on?' There was no way to tell her he lost interest in her. If his interest had ever been in her.

'Nothing', he said. It was a lie. He knew it and he knew she knew it. No one gets bored of snogging their girl a week into their relationship.

'That seems to be the problem, doesn't it?' She rolled her eyes and sat back against his headboard.

'What?'

'Harry', she sighed and patted his hand. 'It's like you aren't even here anymore', she said with her voice soft and low. 'All we do is snog, and we hardly do that.'

Harry's stomach jumped. Ginny was breaking up with him. 'Are you saying you're bored?' If she was bored with him after a week, then it won't hurt her at all. She felt the distance too. It was better than he hoped for.

She sighed and rolled her brown eyes. 'Yes, aren't you?'

He was, but it was more than that. He felt like he was kissing _his_ sister instead of Ron's. 'Well, yeah.'

'Great, then I have an idea that could help us.' Help them? There was nothing that could help them. They just needed to end it, before it got worse. Before he voiced his concern, she grinned at him and climbed onto his lap. It reminded him of his first night with Malfoy. She kissed him and rotated her hips to press against him, but it was wrong. Not how Malfoy did it and hurt him more than pleased him. Then, she slid down his body, lifted his shirt and started kissing around his stomach. When she grabbed the top of his trousers to open them, he stopped her.

'Ginny, wait. Don't!'

She looked at him confused. 'Harry, this will be good. I promise you will like this.' But he didn't. It felt as though he was cheating with her, when he should have felt that way the other night with Malfoy. He could no longer blame that on their relationship being new. Malfoy and he weren't even in a relationship.

'Aw, look who's shy.'

His cheeks burned and stopped her, again. 'I don't think this is going to work out.'

She gaped at him. 'This?' She gestured to him and then to her mouth. 'Or us?' Glaring at him, she sat up and crossed her arms. He kept things as close to platonic with her for a reason. Sex terrified him and he wasn't ready. Snogging was fine, but he wanted his first time to be special. He didn't have to be married. Just in love. A week with a girl who he barely had a conversation with before they started dating wasn't enough to know if he loved her. Cared about, of course. He also cared about Colin Creevy and would defend him against anyone who tried to harm him.

'Us.' It was a whisper, but he knew she heard it. Because her eyes became slits and she punched him, before he could say anything about how it was to protect her. To keep her from getting hurt. He face burned and he felt pain shoot from his eye through the right side of his face.

He deserved that. 'I'm sorry.'

Then she punched him again in the same eye.

He deserved that as well. Ron's reaction would be worse and he expected be covered in bruises later, because he had no intention of fighting back. He deserved it, but he would never admit to his friends why.

* * *

Ron's refrained from hitting him.

Hermione made Ron keep quiet while Harry explained the situation. He abandoned the protecting her from Voldemort story, because the more he thought about it the more holes he found in it. Voldemort never killed people close to Harry just to hurt him. He's goal was to kill Harry. He wasn't even going to kill Harry's mum, except she refused to get out of the way.

Bellatrix killed Sirius because she was insane, loved killing people, and hated her cousin for his betrayal of his family. Luicus gave Ginny the dairy, because of a feud he had with her father. It had nothing to do with Voldemort other than they happened to be followers of Voldemort. Hermione would be quick to point all of that out. Not to mention the Ginny was part of the DA, and wanted to go into battle at Harry's side as much as Hermione and Ron did. He had no reason to exclude her, except he didn't want her there.

He went with something that closer resembled the truth. 'I don't feel for her as strongly as she does me.'

Hermione shook her head. 'Didn't gather that in second year?'

'Yes, I did.' Harry laught. 'She was just pushing me faster than I was comfortable with.'

'So, is it just a break?'

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know, but I don't think so.'

Ron had calmed down since they had first sat down to breakfast, but he still glared at Harry. 'Why did you get with her to begin with?'

'I don't know. It happened so fast.' He was upset about what happened with Malfoy earlier that week and she had supported him and defended him. Then she was standing their single and still interested in him, even after two relationships with other people. Everyone was cheering because she won the Quidditch game and he kissed her. It seemed like what he should do. 'I wasn't ever jealous when she was with Michael, but when she got with Dean… she was always upset and I didn't like seeing her like that. I thought I could make her happy.'

Ron rolled his eyes. 'You're supposed to date people that make you happy.' Relived Harry exhaled and smiled at his best mate. Ron understood.

He nodded toward the newspaper in Hermione's hands. 'What's going on?'

'More attacks, disappearances and Umbridge.' She sighed, folded the paper laying it next to her plate, and started in on her breakfast. 'It looks like we're loosing the Giants.'

He was afraid of that and looked to see how Hagrid took the news.

'He still out talking to them', Hermione said. 'We'll have to visit him when he gets back. He could use the support.' It didn't matter what Hagrid said to them. Voldemort offered more than the ministry was willing to consider. Empty promises or not, they would take the better deal. He choose his followers well. They didn't have much to lose, everything to gain and the general public refused to deal with them. Even the Slytherins. To switch sides was to lose everything. Their families and any resemblance of respect they had before. Even doing the right thing, they'd still be punished for being born in a certain family or having certain talents.

The thing Harry's side of the war fought against and then committed themselves anyway. Harry's family treated him different because of his talents. And though his friends agreed it was wrong of the Muggles, they all treated the Slytherins the same no matter what their age or past experience with said person was. Malfoy hated Hermione for being a Mudblood, but how many times had one of the Weasley's said, 'What do you expect from a _Malfoy_?' anytime he complained about something he said. As though _Malfoy_ was a dirty word.

Then Malfoy entered the Great Hall, head down as it had been all year, and sat at the Slytherin table. Harry couldn't catch his eye, because he made a point to ignore every person around him. It's what made stalking—investigating him without being caught manageable. Even last year, Harry couldn't look in his direction without his eyes already boring into him. He felt as though Ron _had_ punched him in the stomach.

* * *

'I've been meaning to ask…. How did you find this place anyway?'

Malfoy laughed. 'Potter and I had just finished fighting and I was pissed off.'

Harry smiled. It sounded natural coming out of his mouth, as though Harry was not the person sitting next to him.

'On my way back to Slytherin, I decided to take it out on the wall.'

Harry nodded. 'You hit it and it opened?'

'Well, I kicked it a few times.' Malfoy smirked. 'It didn't open, until I turned around and leant against it.' Just like it had for Harry on Friday. 'You have to put pressure against the door before it opens.' He placed his hand on Harry's chest to demonstrate. 'Once someone is in here. It is just like a normal door.'

'So, basically anyone could walk in on us at anytime?'

'Well, technically', Malfoy said. 'But, I don't see why they would have a reason to.' Malfoy put his other hand over Harry's, and rubbed his fingertips around his knuckles. 'There is nothing around this part of the dungeon.' Malfoy liked finding obscure places to touch him. Places he never thought as sexual before, but would get hard thinking about afterwards. If Malfoy wanted to talk, then he'd talk to Parkinson without Polyjuice. They were there for more pleasant activities.

Harry breath caught when Malfoy leant toward him. 'What do you want from this?'

Malfoy looked up at Harry's eyes from his mouth. 'What do you mean?' Malfoy eye's narrowed and he pulled back, until he and Harry separated.

'I mean… well.' Harry shifted and turned his body, so he could face him. 'You already know that you're into blokes.'

Malfoy's glare intensified. Great he won't get anything from an angry Malfoy.

'You figured that out the first night, so why continue this?'

'Why not?' Malfoy scowled, but the took a deep breath and clamed himself. 'Look, I told you, that you didn't have to do this.' He placed his hand on top of Harry's in his lap. 'We can stop.'

'No, it's not that I want to stop.' He wanted to know why. Was he that desperate to just touch Harry's body, even if Harry wasn't in it? If he loved him, then why not be nice to him and try to get with the real Harry. This was fake. If this was what he wanted, why was he such a prick?

Malfoy sighed. 'Then what?'

'Why are you doing this to yourself?' Harry was a nice guy. Everyone knew that. Malfoy could come to him and Harry would help him. 'Doing this, but then knowing that it isn't real?' Like how breakfast that morning had been for Harry. He lost his appetite every time Malfoy avoided his eye contact. 'Does it make it easier to be around him?'

He crossed his arms across his chest and pinched his lips with his teeth, then said, 'No.'

Harry reached out to touch his arm, but Malfoy shook it off.

'Of course, it hurts to see him', he said. 'But, it has always hurt to see him.' He shrugged and let Harry take his hand. 'At least this way, I can touch him.'

He turned and when their eyes met Harry blushed and looked away. 'I think that you could get more out of this than only sex.' Which they had not done yet, but was sure to be on Malfoy's agenda soon and he hoped to stall as long as possible.

He arched an eyebrow. 'How is that?'

'Didn't you feel better last time, after you confessed that you loved him?'

Malfoy refused to answer.

'Why don't we talk a little too?'

He shook his head negatively. 'It wouldn't be real.'

'None of this is real anyway.' Harry wanted to shake him. 'Tell him all the things you have always wanted to tell him. Ask him things you want to know.'

'You aren't going to know how he would answer the question.' If he were Pansy, that'd be true. He did know how he would answer any question though.

'I'll make something up', Harry said.

Malfoy snorted and then pulled at Harry's tie. It was a mess as always. He never could get it right. Malfoy's were always perfect and Harry wished he could see what he was doing as he fixed it without hesitation. Did he do that for his friends in the morning? He pictured Malfoy rolling his eyes at them and loosening then redoing their ties-as he was doing for him- before he allowed them out of the dorm.

'At least, you can get off your chest how you feel.'

Malfoy's face softened as he smoothed Harry's tie down the front of his shirt. 'Okay.' He stood, pulled Harry off the couch, and led him to the bed as he walked backwards. 'Since, we were thirteen—' First sentence and he already let something slip. _Since we were thirteen_ meant that, if he were Pansy and actually believed the whole Malfoy had a crush on Snape story she'd be stopping him there and asking what he meant. But Harry wanted him to slip up, so he pretended not to notice. 'Every time I look at you, I think about how you'd look naked.'

No, no, no. Talking was supposed to lead away from sex not toward it. Harry held his breath and froze in place.

Malfoy sensed his hesitation and backed off. He leant against the bed which put a couple feet of space between them. 'All those times I made fun of your clothes was because of that.'

Harry exhaled.

Malfoy laught. 'I had to stop my self from asking you to take them off by insulting you instead.' How was that funny? Did he insult Snape as well? Harry couldn't remember. He remembered one of the many times Malfoy made fun of his cloths and the way his eyes would scan him from head to toe in discussed. How flustered he'd get and then how stupid the insult was. For someone who was smart his insults were never very creative. Harry laught at the memory and allowed Malfoy to pull him closer.

'You're so beautiful.' Malfoy straightened his glasses, which had shifted down his nose and lopsided once again. He needed new pair. 'I have to learn everything for the classes we have together, before I get there.'

No wonder he always knew all the answers. He also made it where Harry had to confront him about who he really fancies.

'Because, I know I won't hear a word the professor says, if you are in the same room with me.' He flipped their positions and gestured for Harry sit on the bed, which he did after a moments hesitation. It was at a comfortable height for Malfoy to lean on his forearms, so he placed an arm on either side of Harry's thighs. 'I can't concentrate on anything, except you when you're around.' He untucked Harry's shirt, and then stood up to kiss him on the mouth. Harry had to lean down to reach Malfoy's mouth.

'In class', his voice was low as raspy from his own excitement. 'I daydream about going down on you, and making you moan my name.' His thumbs made circles across Harry's thighs. A motion that was surprisingly relaxing. 'Would you let me do that to you?' Would he let him—? He was asking to—? Before Harry thought about it, he was already nodding his head.

In a matter of seconds Malfoy had Harry's trouser open and him out of them. 'I want lick you.' Then he did from base to tip, which caused the moan he had just been describing. 'Over—' He repeated the motion. 'And over—' He repeated the motion again. 'And over again.' He repeated the motion for a third time. 'Until nothing else matters, but my tongue and how it makes you feel.'

Harry could barley breath listening to him, and almost said that he had already forgotten everything else. But Malfoy quit teasing him and took him as far into his mouth as he could. He wrapped his lips around him then pulled back and over the head, then licked a circle around the head a few times. Before, he took Harry back into his mouth, and moaned along with him as he sucked him to completion.

He kissed Harry, before Harry fell backwards on the bed and let his breathing slow, enjoying his temporary feeling of bliss. Malfoy crawled up next to him and laid his head on Harry's chest. Harry rolled over on his side to face Malfoy, which forced him to switch to lying on Harry's arm. 'Sometimes, everyone else has left the room, and the professor has to get my attention. I think a few of them think I am loosing my mind.'

Harry smiled and ran his hand down the front of Malfoy's shirt, which was still on. When he attempted to open Malfoy's trouser he stopped him, shook his head, cleaned himself up with a quick charm, and laught. 'Maybe, I am.'

* * *

So maybe sex wasn't Harry's problem after all.

The next morning he decided to do a little light reading during breakfast. Hermione and Ron joined him somewhere during his second chapter. Ron started in on breakfast not paying any attention to anything other than the food in front of him, and though Hermione was quiet Harry could feel her eyes on him. Once he'd finished the chapter he lay _The Gay Wizard's Guide to Sex_ down beside his plate and started in on his breakfast.

'Um, Harry', Hermione said cautious and slow, while pulling a lock of hair behind her ear. 'Is there something you wanted to tell us?'

'No.'


	4. Coming Out

Harry laughed at his friend's expressions, and then explained that he figured out what the problem with his and Ginny's relationship. Ron was insistant that he had to have a crush on someone or else how did he figure it out, and Hermione figured out it was Malfoy who helped Harry figure out his sexuality all on her own whilst Ron ranted. At which point, Ron became convinced that Malfoy had poisoned Harry with a love potion.

'He doesn't even know it's me.' Harry regretted it as soon as he said it, but promised to explain everything in a more private place later.

'So', Ron said later that evening, after Hermione made Ron listen to what Harry had to say before accusing him of anything. 'You've been sneaking around with Malfoy, but he thinks your Pansy using polyjuice to be _yourself_? And he hasn't figured out you aren't her?'

'Not yet', Hermione pointed out, 'But he will, Harry, you have to know he will. You can't keep—'

'I know, I know. I just don't know how to tell him.' Harry sighed and leant back against the couch, where Hermione sat in between Ron and himself incase Ron was unable to control his temper. He had yet to put together that Harry might have been with Malfoy prior to breaking up with his sister, so Harry was safe for the moment. Judging by the glares he got from Hermione she had put the two together and he'd be hearing about it later. 'I mean look at what happened when Ron laughed at his name—this is so much worse.'

Niether of them seemed to have an answer for that, so Hermione peppered him with questions about the next time they'd see each other. When? Tonight. What time? Around ten. What where they going to do? Probably not a lot of talking, though he left that unsaid and gave her a look that he excepted was enough to communicate the idea.

For the first time in his life, Harry made an effort to look good, and he was completely lost. As he went through his clothes he realised he was one of the riches kids at Hogwarts, but he still dressed like the poorest. He never wanted to make Ron feel inferior, so he never bothered to buy himself new clothes, continued to wear what his family gave him, and never learned any spells to help them fit him any better. The only clothes he owned which fit him were his school clothes—which were what he always wore to meet Malfoy—and the sweater Mrs Weasley made him for Christmas. It was green and sans a letter, but everyone knew where he got it. Should he risk it? If Malfoy noticed then it would open them up to the conversation he needed to have with him.

His hair was another problem. A rather big one. Harry never could get it to do what he wanted, except the one time he unconsciously made it grow back. If he could make it grow back, why could he never get it to lay down. He brushed it until all the knots were out and it did look tamer, though still stuck up in odd places. He refused to use gel which he thought was gross and smelled funny, and he was glad that Draco gave up on it after second year. Though Draco's hair was tidy and in the right place at all times, he no longer turned it into a helmet. Harry figured he must have found a magic solution and wondered what it was.

He beat Draco to the room and waited for him on the bed, after he decided he tortured his hair enough and he would risk wearing the jumper.

Draco always made an effort to look his best, so even though Harry studied him to see if there was a difference in him he couldn't pick anything out. He wore a mixture of dark gray and black which made him look paler than he was, yet made his eyes seem more present. Grey eyes could seem colourless at times, but grey clothes, at least on Draco, brought them out. Harry wondered if wearing green did the same with his eyes.

Since Harry had something he had to say, he had no desire to talk and kept quiet as Draco joined him. Draco smiled at the green sweater, but choose not to say anything and soon they were kissing like the few times before. This could be their last night together, before Draco either hated him forever or they stayed away from each other because them being together is too dangerous. It was the one thing he thought Hermione would harp on the most, but she never brought it up. It was dangerous; he knew it was dangerous, but she focused on his deceit; on how Draco would feel.

It didn't need to be said, he was aware of the dangerous situations he always got himself into. Maybe, that was why his friends left it out of their conversations. He can't escape danger and on the scale of things messing around with Draco isn't as risking for him as it is for Draco. Chills ran to his toes as Draco kissed his neck. If this was their last night, then Harry wanted to remember every moment of it. Draco's warm breath on his face and neck, his slim fingers grabbing, pulling at the fabric of Harry's Christmas jumper, the taste of mint—not peppermint, but mint—tingling in Harry's mouth in the places where Draco's tongue meet his, and the smell of cinnamon, cloves, leather, and grass that surround Draco at all times.

He was glad he wore his jumper, because he could wear it later and remember this; he'd never be able to concentrate in class if he wore his uniform, as it would be a constant reminder. Draco climbed on top of him, straddling him, and tried to pull the green jumper off. Harry allowed it, then retaliated by pulling at Draco's shirt. He almost finished unbuttoning it when Draco pulled his hand away. Not that easy to detour, Harry resumed his struggle with the last button.

'Don't', Draco said in between kissing Harry's jaw line then mouth.

He continued despite the command.'Why? I want to see you.' It came out a mix between a whine and low moan.

'Because I—just because.' He pulled Harry's hands away and this time kept a hold of them.

'What?' Harry didn't respond to the next few times Draco tried to kiss him. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing—' Draco hissed, but it sounded more like a hiss of pain instead of his usual angry one, when Harry noticed he had grabbed Draco's left arm.

'Is it because you're marked?' Harry'd forgotten. That was the whole point of him following Draco around in the first place was that he was sure he had been marked over the summer. As soon as he forgot about it, his chance to find out opened up. Except then, he didn't want to know. 'Draco, I know you have the mark.'

Draco starred at him with wide eyes whilst he faltered for something to say. When Harry let go of his arm and pulled at his shirt again, Draco pulled the shirt tight around himself.

'Fine', Harry said in frustration. 'How about if I promise to let you keep your arms covered?'

He shook his head with a confused look on his face.

'Come on, please?' Harry tried to look cute, though he had no idea how to do that and it made Draco snort, but he shook his head no again. 'Why not?'

'I don't want you to see me.'

'I gathered that, why?'

'I'm too skinny; no matter what I do I can't—I play Quidditch all the time and eat as healthy as possible—Crabbe and Goyle says it's because I refuse to eat meat, but that's stupid because even when I did try eating meat I just got sick, and when I just took protein potions nothing changed either—'

'Draco! I don't care.' Harry quickly added, 'I will find you attractive no matter what. I wasn't expecting you to be muscular', because Draco looked upset at his outburst. 'I'm already attracted to you. You don't have to be anything, but what you already are, okay?'

Draco seemed hesitant, but he didn't stop Harry from taking his shirt off. Still Harry took it slow afraid that if he moved too fast Draco would protest again. The mark was there, but Harry kept his eyes on Draco face and his hands roam his stomach and chest. He knew it was there, but it still hurt to see it. Kissing Draco again didn't make the emptiness disappear, but made it sharper. It happened too soon; he wanted to savour the evening before they talked about darker things and he spoiled it by pushing too fast. He pushed his negative feelings aside and concentrated on Draco's mouth. After his stomach began to feel normal again, Harry worked on getting the rest of their clothes off.

He thought there might be some hesitation on Draco's part—after all he wasn't the one who read a gay sex manual all week—but he didn't question Harry when he started casting protection and lubrication spells on them both nor protest when used the stretching spell on Draco instead of himself. He did gasp and Harry was sure to have marks left from his finger nails, but Harry hoped that was from the shock of it happening and not because Harry fucked up the spell and hurt him. He figured he had to be doing something right after made it through the initial awkward stages of getting comfortable with each other, because soon Draco's whining transformed in to slight moaning which became Harry's name. Not Potter, but Harry.

At first, he ignored it—rather he savour it, loved it, floated in it, but soon the realisation that he wasn't supposed to know who he was crashed him back into reality and he decided he'd pretend Pansy hadn't heard it—but after the third time Harry kissed him to shut him up worried about the moment Draco realised what he was saying.

It killed the momentum they had going and Harry tried to get it back before Draco noticed, but it was useless. Draco sense something was wrong and studied Harry's face in concern, then he sighed and rolled his eyes.

'Stop it. I know it's you, Harry. Where would Pansy have gotten your glasses?' He put his hands on either side of Harry's face forced him to focus on his face. 'Can we please quit thinking about other shite and focus on this for once?' Harry agreed without saying anything and he didn't think about how Draco already knew it was him, how long he had known, or what that might mean, but on the present moment no matter what the consequences. It was too late to worry about them anyway.

* * *

Hermione said, 'I knew he'd figure it out', as soon as he told them. It turned out to be a few things, though he's acting skills wheren't among them. His glasses were what first tipped Draco off, then he noticed the Gryffindor school uniform, which were both problematic because Pansy had no way of getting them even if she had known she'd need them. Pansy knew how to tie a tie without his help, and even if she attempted to go that far in character, she would refuse to have a sloppy tie on principal.

'Well?' Hermione asked.

Harry gave her a confused looked. 'Well what?'

'Has he renounced the Dark Lord', Ron asked, 'Have you decided to die for his cause, have you both woken up and realised that it is insane for you two to be doing what-ever-it-is you are doing, or should we start planning both of your funerals?' Maybe he had left them alone together a bit too much.

Harry laughed, but stopped at the glares his friends gave him. 'It will be alright.' Neither of them agreed with this and it was rare for them to agree on anything. He looked over to see if Draco looked the way Harry felt, and hoped to catch his eye but Draco never looked his way. Soon every spot he looked at on Draco reminded him of the night before, even his hands and elbows made Harry want to blush and he decided that maybe it was a good idea not to look at him after all. If only he could make himself stop.

* * *

'He's doing it again', Blaise said to Draco who was busy staring at his breakfast, but not eating any of it.

'Who?'

'Potter, he keeps staring at you.'

Draco shrugged, but gave no indication that he cared one way or another. It used to be the other way around. Draco constantly staring at, following around, or talking about Potter at all times. Not that Blaise missed those days, but something had to be going on if Draco was not interested in the fact that The-Boy-The-Dark-Lord-Was-Most-Interested-In had a sudden interest in him. If it Potter's attention was on Blaise he'd do his upmost to lure Potter into a dark corner and figure out the purpose, and Blaise didn't have six years of obsessing over The-Boy-Who-Lived behind him.

'Crabbe and Golye wanted to have a chess competition in the common room tonight, you in?'

'Thanks', Draco said,'But I've got studying to do. Not tonight.'

Blaise'd have to see what it was Draco was studying.

* * *

It was the situation with Ginny all over again, except this was worse because he wanted it to work and he was afraid it wouldn't. They had sex first, because he thought it might relax Draco, force him to see what he'd be missing without Harry, and Harry didn't want to lose the the opportunity, since he was sure he would once he brought this conversation up.

'Do you still plan on fulfilling your mission for Voldemort?'

Draco tensed and pulled away from him. 'I don't want to talk about this with you.' He got off the bed and began to dress, picking his clothes off the floor and charming the wrinkles out before he put them on.

'I'm not giving you another option.' Harry made no move to get out of the bed. 'Stop, get back in bed—I wanted this to be a conversation; not a fight.'

'How could this be anything other than a fight? I'm not going to say what you want me to. It's not that simple!'

Harry lost all patience. If he wanted to fight, then Harry would fight. 'He wants me dead! You do realise that right? He got up, but didn't bother to dress. 'You can't have both; I can't be with you knowing that you are part of group who are _planning my murder! _Do you not care that they'd kill you without a thought, if they found about this; they'd assume you were a spy, which I'm not allowing you to do either—not that thought ever crossed your mind—'

'How would you know?' Draco shoved Harry against bed. 'You know nothing about me! You think I've never thought about going to Dumbledore? I _knew_ your side would never listen to me; it would have been suicide. You think I wanted to spend my sixth year figuring out the impossible, instead of studying for my _future_ like everyone else was this year?' He took a couple steps away from Harry and began to button his shirt. 'I didn't permanently disfigure my arm because I wanted to. I did this, I'm doing this, because my father _failed,_ and he was going to _kill_ my mother as punishment for it. I offered my services instead to spare her life.'

Draco started to cry, and this time Harry did what he should have done the last time, and Harry pulled him into his arms and let Draco cry it out, while he whispered it was going to be okay. Dumbledore would listen to him, and even if they wouldn't have before Harry would make them. Harry had the money, the house, and the _power_ to keep Draco save, and yes of course his mother too.

Once Draco calmed down he continued, 'I never thought he'd give me a task that was impossible. My father's tasks never seemed impossible. Get the prophecy. How hard is that? Figure out what number it was—through connections, or make yourself invisible, Merlin even I can do that—pick the bloody thing up and take it to The Dark Lord. It is about him, so he will be able to hear it once he touches it. There was no reason to lure you to the ministry, except he couldn't figure out which prophecy it was so he needed you to find it for him. Stupid. I thought anything he'd give I'd have figured out within a week, but he picked something no one had ever been able to do.'

'Draco.'

'Except, I did it. I figured it out weeks ago. I just haven't told him yet.' Draco kept talking and Harry wanted to ask questions, but he stayed quiet accepting everything Draco offered him. 'I was almost ready. Right after you hexed me _nearly killing_ me _without_ getting in trouble for it—' Harry got detention for the rest of the year with Snape, but he always had detention with Snape. A part of him knew that anyone else would have been expelled and spend some time in Azkaban, but he couldn't claim about it. Draco continued,'I didn't care what happened to you or anyone else at that point, but I couldn't move for days and by the time I was up again—probably also, because of all the potions I was taking—the anger was gone and I was in the same place I was when you found me crying on the bathroom floor.

'I didn't want to do it. People were going to get hurt and I felt guilty every time I saw someone that I didn't mean to hurt. He gave me a loophole. He said or. Kill Dumbledore and then in a joking way obviously ment to tease me, _or_ find a way to get us into Hogwarts so that _we_ can do it for you.

'Not _I_, but we. He is afraid of Dumbledore and he sent me to do it, but obviously I can't. He'd be dead now, except I can't seem to escape my bad luck, then again I'm lucky no one else died instead. I did find a way into Hogwarts. I found a room that no one can get you. You found it, actually. All year I tried to get into that room thinking, I have something to hide, or I need a room to hide something, or I need a secret place, but it never let me into your secret meetings.

'Once, when you weren't there it did let me into the room and that's where I found the way in—'

Harry couldn't keep silent any longer. 'The Room of Hidden Things, of course.' He pushed Draco away from him enough so that he could look at his face. 'You really are brillant. I've been following you all year, I know how the room works, and I've even been in The Room of Hidden Things your first day in the hospital, yet I never put it together that you were hiding something and therefore using that room.'

'What were you hiding?'

'The book where I found that spell, which nearly killed you.'

Draco kissed him.


End file.
